His Touch, His Taste, His everything
by BeccyBr00tal
Summary: "Love is good for nothing. It ruins lives. It is ruining my life right now... So why can't I walk away?" A Ryden fic. What happens when Brendon Urie wins the trip to Sea World with Ryan Ross? Rated M for language and later chapters.
1. And So Here He Is

_**A/N: So, since writing my Ryan Ross and Brendon Urie one shot, I decided to challenge myself and work on a project at a larger scale. The chapters will probably get gradually longer, and it will be updated every Wednesday, before 12pm, London time-zone.**_

_**Please leave comments so I know how to improve and suggestions are always welcome! Feel free to PM me if needs be (same goes for my other stories)**_

_**Also, Ryan's views about post-breakup panic are NOT my own. I loved the way Bren&Ry would parade around on stage. I just felt as if Ryan needed to feel angst towards it.**_

_**-Beccy xx**_

* * *

"Are you clinically insane, or just trying to piss me the fuck off?!" I seethe, banging my fists against the table in front of him.

"Ryan, Ryan, calm down, okay?" Shane looks at me, leaning forward out of the arm chair and towards me.

"I cannot calm down!" I cry, starting up a quick circulation of the room, throwing my fists about in exasperation, "First, You are telling me that you've hooked up some sort of emailing list in an attempt to set me up with a fan to go to fucking Seaworld..."

"Yes..."

"...And now you're telling me, that even though it was supposed to be _fans only, _which generally means _fanatical teenage girls_, it turns out that I will be attending Seaworld with none other than _Brendon Fucking Urie_?!"

"Well, yes... That was the minor glitch I was about to tell you about"

"BUT YOU DIDN'T FUCKING TELL ME, DID YOU? You left it to a confused Spencer- who I haven't spoken to in God knows how long- to call me up and ask me why the hell I'm going on holidays for a fortnight with Brendon, who hates my fucking guts" I thunder, coming into contact with a wall and tossing my fists against it, making the plaster shudder in fear, "And you're not even coming with me!"

"He can't hate you if he entered the competition, Ryan. Please try to be rational about this," I look up to see Shane's concerned face looking at me, "You can't duck out of it now- think of the bad press coverage. That wouldn't be good at all, what with the new album coming out soon. Please, Ryan, it would cause a disruption..."

His soothing tone is irritating me. It's alright for Shane- he doesn't have to endure the company of an ex-best friend and ex-band mate for a fortnight...

I'm staring straight at the pale, peach coloured wall of my apartment. I sense that if I hit it hard enough, or maybe grab a hammer, which I, for some unknown reason, keep to hand in the kitchen, I could possibly break through and into next door. That wouldn't be good at all. That would cause a disruption... Not that my yelling hasn't managed that already.

"Fine," I grit my teeth, almost growling out the words, "I'll do it. But this better be fucking worth it, Morris"

* * *

"Where the hell is he?" I growl out under my breath, still in an amazingly awful mood, Brendon's lateness and having to wake up at 4am not helping matters at all.

I check the clock on my mobile for about the hundredth time in the past five minutes, standing alone in the half empty departure lounge.

The room is huge, but few people are here. The walls are painted a dull white, not bright at all, and the florescent lighting doesn't help my bedraggled appearance by illuminating the dark circles under my eyes from the weeks of sleepless nights I'd spent anxiously awaiting this moment. There's a family of four in front of me, lounging on the red seating, completely at ease. The children are chatting animatedly to the tired looking, young parents. The man has an arm wrapped lovingly around his wife, who's leaning against his shoulder, dozing in and out of an exhausted slumber. Across the room are a young couple, sifting through many leaflets advertising Florida's attractions. She's holding his hand and he's gooey eyed, twirling his fingers through her curls.

I sigh and sit in one of the hard, plastic seats to my right, pulling up one of my legs and cradling it to my chest as I watch these pathetic couples getting on with their normal every-day lives. Catch me ever falling in love... Besides, what the hell is the definition of _love_? And all that _home is where the heart is _bullshit? Yeah right. My home is where I take girls to fuck.

Ever since I left Panic! I've been looking for something bigger, and I've found it; my new album. People are finally going to see me for myself, and not some guitarist who looks like a faggot and sleazes around on stage with the singer of the band, literally _eye-fucking _each other just to gain popularity. My lyrics will finally be acknowledged as my own, and not as the bands'. I can finally be myself.

"Er... Ryan?"

My head whips around and there he is, standing behind me, clutching a coffee cup and eyeing me nervously. A million questions plummet through my mind, but none of them make sense, and none of them can form into words properly. So instead I just stare at the human being that is Brendon Urie.

He's hardly changed at all, really. He still wears the same ridiculously tight jeans, the button up shirts, but his glasses are larger, framing his face better. He's shaved, too, since I last saw him. He still smells good, and is still as fit as always, though I'd never admit that I thought that. Not to him, not to anyone. But generally, Brendon looks... good.

"Brendon" I stand and turn to face him, letting my eyes once again wash over his perfect form... Wait. _Perfect_? Did I really just think that? Perfect is overrated, and is _definitely _not the right word to describe Brendon.

"Hi?" His voice wavers a little, and makes the greeting into a question. I notice how his fingers are gripping the coffee too tightly, small beads of sweat at his hairline.

He's nervous.

"Hey, Brendon" I reply.

The edge has set in the air, the cold awkwardness almost consuming us. What with us both being socially awkward, and me being a giant asshole, this was definitely not going to end well. Not in the slightest.

"Can I ask you a few things?" I sit down and pat the seat beside me.

Brendon sits and glances down at his fingers, which are still clutched around the coffee cup, "Sure... I guess I owe you some answers"

"Well, first off, Brendon," I stare at the top of his head, watching as he watching his hands, "What the hell are you doing here? Why the hell are you here and what possessed you in order for you to be here"

"I... Well, first off, I entered your competition," He begins, still looking intently at his hands, "I-I entered because... Well, I fought with Sarah a few weeks back, right? And she told me to 'fuck off and get back with Ryan Ross'... Because, well, she always suspected there was something between us, which there wasn't, of course, because- because I know you're straight, but that's just it, you know?

"So I said I would, and Ryan, she actually called off our engagement. Like, actually ended it with me. So I thought, what the hell have I got to lose, and I... well, I sort of managed to glitch the competition and... well, here I am."

He looks up at me, and I'm about to yell at him but am unable to, as his huge, brown, puppy-dog eyes meet my own. We watch each other for a while, and when he realises I'm not going to scream violently, or throw something, he holds out his hand.

I take it and we shake, my always freezing fingers closing around his warm ones, heated by the coffee, just as the boarding tone orders us to move towards the gate.

Brendon's got too many bags, as usual, so I help him to struggle with them towards the gate, sort of letting him support himself against my shoulder. Something he never learned was that you should always travel with the least amount of luggage possible. He was always bringing too many shirts, or that collection of hair products that he had especially packed for the shows only. Brendon could be impossible at times.

As we pass through the boarding gates, flashing our passports, the young girl, covered in makeup and with artificial hair, is looking at us intently, but not through recognition.

"Awh, you two are so sweet," She gushes, "I just love seeing couples so happy together"

Brendon and I stare at her, then at each other.

"We're not... we're not together" Brendon assures her, using his fingers to indicate 'us'. It sounds just as convincing as 'We have flying pigs in our rucksacks'.

"Of course you're not," She winks, "Enjoy your vacation!"

We are then ushered through a long corridor, overwhelmed by couples, old and young, still sort of in awe of the girl's assumptions, and how forward she was in making them. Do I really look gay?

We are shoved and pushed all the way onto the flight and when we finally collapse into our seats, I watch out of the window in silence, waiting for take off as the sun begins to rise from behind the horizon, an orange-yellow glow taking hold of the plane.

"Do you think we look like a couple?" Brendon mumbles after a few seconds. He's biting his thumb nail, awaiting my reply.

I don't reply, so he continues, "I guess... I guess you have always looked a little feminine"

My head snaps up, "What?"

"Well... you know. I guess they all think you'd be the sub in our relationship"

"Bren," I find his old nickname slipping off my lips before I can stop it. I pause, then continue, "I am demanding that we halt this bizarre conversation now, and just get ready to endure this awful holiday that you managed to set up"

He's silenced then, and as we watch everyone else board the plane, I find myself wondering if this really is going to be as bad as I'd anticipated...


	2. Lonely Thoughts and Pain Riddled Longing

"Coffee?"

I open my eyes slowly, trying to remember exactly where I am. Greeted with a dry, scratchy throat and eyes that refuse to open widely, I can just about make out the dim lighting that has been turned on in the otherwise dark plane.

Once we'd boarded the flight, they had been unable to locate the captain, causing us to sit in an unnecessary awkward silence, broken only by the exchanging of general news, for another five hours. When the crew had finally situated the captain who, might I add, had boarded the wrong plane, took off four hours early, and had to return to Vegas to board _our _flight, we finally took off for Florida.

I sit up groggily, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and swallowing hard. To my dismay, I find that as I lift my head, I have been cuddled into Brendon's shoulder, the top of my head resting into his neck. I awkwardly glance in his direction, only to find him folding up his newspaper and addressing the flight attendant in his quiet manner, ordering two coffees.

She pours them carefully; smiling in my direction, then discreetly asks us for autographs as she hands them over. After we've signed a napkin with a quick, practised flick of a pen, she rushes off to serve the people in front in a hushed manner.

"Here you are," Brendon holds out the coffee, which is in a clear, unattractive, plastic cup, and smiles a little as he sips his own. He pulls a face, "Too sweet"

"I see," I nod and then take a sip of my own, the boiling liquid scorching my throat as it slips down, "I'd say it could do with a little more sugar, actually"

We smile at each other in a somewhat apprehensive way, then I motion to his shoulder with my hand, "Umm... Sorry, y'know... about falling asleep on you"

"It's all good, Ross," He shrugs, "Besides, you didn't start off there; your head rolled onto my shoulder about half an hour after you'd dozed off, so I didn't mind too much"

"How long have I been out?" I ask him, setting my now empty cup onto the pull-out tray in front of me.

"About three hours?" He glances at his watch, "We've only got another hour and a half left, probably, if this captain gets his act together. We'll hopefully be in Orlando by ten thirty"

"Fuck, and to think we boarded this flight at five am this morning" I sigh, leaning back into my seat and stretching.

He nods in agreement, crumpling his cup and dropping it into the black bag that's available for our rubbish, "So I thought that Ryan Ross would be flying in a private jet, first class?" He cocks an eyebrow quizzically.

"Surely you know me better than that?" I ask, watching his dubiously as I rest my head in the hole where the window is, "Honestly, any fuss made is too much. If I arrived in a private jet, the press would be there waiting, and I'd be surrounded by cameras, fans and interviewers. I'd rather be as diplomatic as possible."

"Yeah, definitely the same Ryan Ross that left us behind," Brendon gives me a playful poke in the ribs, which are exposed through my shirt due to the position I've pushed myself into, "So what's this about a new album?"

"Ah, that was Shane's idea," I scrunch my face up a little to confirm my distaste, "I'm not really too excited by the idea, but he feels it might clear my name as being a 'crack head'" I frown, glancing down into my lap.

"So you're not a crack head, then?"

I look up at Brendon, trying to disguise the hurt that I know is visible in my eyes with an ironic look, "Are you seriously asking that?"

"I guess" he shrugs half-heartedly.

"No, I'm not," I bite my lip, "I feel as if the press has really got it in for me... Sure, we've all snorted cocaine, but I'm no coke head"

"That's good" He smiles in a way that shows he's being deadly serious about that.

I return the smile, meekly.

"By the way, Happy Birthday Ryan" He punches my shoulder softly, his knuckles brushing my shirt sleeve.

* * *

I continue to help Brendon to drag his many bags as we clamber off the plane together later, breathing in the humid air of Florida and feeling an uneasy sense set into my stomach as I find myself in a foreign place, with an ex-best friend.

"You alright, Ross?" Brendon's looking at me quizzically as we set foot into Orlando airport together, our cases rumbling as we drag them across the marble floor behind us in haste.

"Sure," I nod, biting my lip and trying to conceal the look of discomfort that I know is visible in my eyes, "And yourself?"

"Not too bad," He breathes in deeply, adjusting his glasses slightly so that they sit higher on his nose, then he smiles, "So, is it Sea World tomorrow, or the next day?"

"Tomorrow," I begin, "You meet Shane Morris. The next day is Sea World"

"Let the Dolphins meet the 'beautiful majestic dolphin," Brendon teases, "I can hardly wait to meet this Shane"

"Fuck up," I growl, jabbing him with my elbow, as my hands are full, "And thank God, we're only spending tomorrow morning with Shane- he's going to spend the two weeks with his family, so we'll be alone"

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realise a double meaning, and so does Brendon.

"Want some alone time with me, Ross?" He winks.

It irritates me how he's addressing me with my last name. It's childish of me to think this way, but it's as if Brendon has the upper hand already, as I've already messed up and called him 'Bren', an old friendly nickname. As much as Brendon insinuates that he wants to rekindle our old friendship, using my surname isn't entirely warming me to him.

"What's with you calling me 'Ross' all of a sudden?" I avoid his question by asking another, unable to hide the irritation that's leaking through my usually monotone tone.

He laughs without humour, "You'd prefer me to call you Ryan, then?"

I nod, curtly.

"Sure, sure," He holds open the door that leads out into the parking area for us to wait for our taxi, and I duck under his arm without looking up, "Just didn't want to make the assumption that we were friends again"

"Not friends," I correct, sitting my case up on its end, then resting back against it, "Associates"

He looks a little taken aback, yet lines his case up next to mine all the same. I feel great; ahead of the game once more. If Brendon wants to play it this way, then we most definitely shall.

"Hey..."

I look up at him in the darkness.

"Isn't that our cab over there?" He gestures to a black taxi that has the name "ROSS" printed on a piece of white card in the front window.

"It is indeed" I give him a gentle shove in the general direction of the cab, and he helps me to lift and pile our cases and other baggage into the boot.

We have to pile one of Brendon's bags into the window seat on the right, so he ends up sat in the middle seat of the cab as we pull off, our hips brushing, thighs touching. I glance down, feeling uncomfortable. It's bizarre, really, the fact that I feel awkward sitting this close to him, with hardly any contact at all.

We sit in silence for the entire journey to the hotel, the quiet only broken when the cab pulls up at the gates. Brendon helps the driver to pull our cases up the drive, and then we sit in reception for a while, waiting for our key cards.

Brendon and I are on the same floor, two rooms apart. I feel the urge to offer him into my room, but the fear of rejection is too strong, so instead I bid him goodnight and fall into bed fully clothed, just lying there with the lights off, staring out of the open balcony doors in the too warm room, trying to find patterns in the stars but failing.

We used to do that a lot when I was with the band. Brendon and I would sneak out after some of the shows and go to lie on a beach, or a meadow, or anywhere where we could see the sky in it's true beauty. He would point out all the constellations, explaining the mythology behind them, whispering it in his musical, soft voice and lulling me to sleep.

And here I am now, trying to make these stars into something that they are not, trying to pretend that everything's just fine, that I'm okay, that I'll be able to survive these two weeks without falling apart and begging to return to the band. Just seeing Brendon has kicked my senses into over drive, reopening the ripped and jaggedly seamed back together part of me that was Panic! At the Disco.

I hate to admit it, so I roll over onto my side and sigh out a pain induced sigh, hoping to push all the longing out of my lungs, which are flooded with it, my heart, which is heavy with it.

I bury my head into a pillow and actually scream, loud and heavy, not sure if I'm trying to suffocate myself, or trying to evacuate all this throbbing hurt out of my body. I want to be numb; I don't want to feel this anymore.

* * *

**_A/N: Uploaded a little earlier because I felt like it (: I hope you enjoy. Chapter Three will still be posted on Sunday, and then Chapter four the following Sunday._**


	3. Intoxicated Infatuation?

I collapse onto a sun bed at ten past two the next day, unbuttoning my shirt and shoving it onto the floor, then lying back onto the bed, sighing deeply.

"Still as skinny as always then, Ross" Brendon is standing above me, smirking with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't call me Ross" I reply irritably.

Brendon ignores me, as usual, and leans forward, planting himself down on the blue and black bed next to mine, stretching out and then poking me in the ribs so that I squirm and sit up.

"Jesus, that Shane's a fucking bore" he grumbles, referring to our meeting with Shane that we'd had earlier this morning and unbuttoning his own pale blue shirt and discarding it onto the ground on top of mine.

I laugh quietly, lying back again onto the bed again, "Fuck, I know right?"

We stay in silence for a while, just listening to the music that's playing softly in the background. Brendon still hasn't lain down; he's sat with his elbows resting on his knees, which are hidden by his greying skinny jeans. He's definitely worked out since I last saw him, that much's obvious. Brendon now has toned, muscular arms and a well-built torso, yet he's still as pale and breakable looking as I am.

"Like what you see?" I don't realise I'm gawking until Brendon raises his eyebrows and grins at me, pointing it out and sparing me no shame at all.

"Christ, do you remember when you played this for the fans once?" It takes me a second to realise that he's referring to the song that's playing quietly. It's _Careless Whisper_.

"Yeah!" I sit up, glad that he seems to have forgotten about me staring at his body. It must have looked so incredibly _gay_, which is something that I most definitely am _not_. It's not my problem if Brendon looks so... tempting...

Wait, did I really just think that? No, of course not. What the fuck? I decide that it must be the lack of sleep and alcohol deprivation and turn to face him.

He's been speaking all the while, yet I only catch, "... Was grinding against you"

"I'm sorry, what?" I furrow my brows, not sure if I'd heard correctly, or if my mind was trying to mess me up further.

He laughs, "A little off track today, Ryan," He grins, jerking his eyebrows about in a suggestive manner, then says, "That was the first concert that I grinded with you"

I stare at him for a moment, because he's still looking at me, right in the eyes, eyebrows still arched and body still muscular, and I feel an odd sense of anticipation settling in the pit of my stomach before I clear my throat and say, "Uh. Yeah. Yeah, you're right"

He's leaning closer to me now, his head only a few inches away from mine, and he's looking at me with his big, brown eyes. I shake my head, trying to clear it a little... Since when has anyone had this affect on me?

What _is _this affect?

"At least you didn't deny it!" He sits back and chuckles softly to himself, then he gives me a somewhat provocative look, "Can't say you didn't enjoy it though, eh?"

He was stepping dangerously close to re-opening a securely locked up part of my brain. One that I'd shut off the moment I'd walked away from Panic! all those years ago...

"Sure I enjoyed it," I counter, "Who wouldn't enjoy Brendon Urie's crotch pressed up against their own when he's fully erect?" I throw in the last part as a jibe, but feel stunned as I see the colour rising in his cheeks; he wasn't _actually_ erect back then, was he...?

"Hey, hey," he leans back and stretches, fully exposing his toned chest, "I wasn't _fully _erect. I was just a horny dude"

"But you were a little, Bren" The nickname slips off my tongue before I can stop it as I tease him.

"Who says?"

I laugh and then stand up, pulling my shirt back up off the floor and draping it around my shoulders, "Come on- I'm boiling. Let's go get some trunks on and get in there" I gesture towards the pool.

* * *

"Christ, Ryan," Brendon downs another shot as we sit in the overcrowded hotel bar, "You can sure hold your drink"

Although I'm trying to act tough, braving an extreme alcohol intake that will probably leave me dry-heaving with my head in the toilet tomorrow, I can feel the many shots I'd downed clouding my vision slightly.

"I've had practice" I explain easily, sipping at my own drink.

"How d'you mean?" Brendon is clearly drunk, yet it's obvious he's not too wasted and know's what he's saying.

"Well, you had to be pretty intoxicated to get with some of the girls I've been with" I laugh.

"You're referring to Keltie now, yeah?" Brendon nods and sets his empty shot down, then swivels around on his stool so that he's facing me, "She was a whore"

"Thanks"

"I mean it, Ryan, she was a fucking whore," He shakes his head in disbelief, "Why'd you even get with her in the first place? For fuck's sake, she won't even let you see your dog!"

"She wasn't actually that bad," I frown and turn my own body, so that my knee is locked between his, and visa versa, "And... the thing with Hobo... I guess she had her reasons. If I'd have left anything hanging about... Hobo might have eaten it and that would've killed Kel"

"Why'd you get with her, though?" He pushes me.

"I don't fucking know," I respond, feeling a little angry, but being unable to place my finger on why, exactly, "Why'd you get with 'Sarah Smiles', your little fiancé?"

"EX- fiancé," Brendon corrects me, tapping a finger on my nose as I pull away, "And I got with her 'cause I had a major crush on this other person, who would never like me back"

"What?"

"Yeah, I never told you about that," He swings his legs a little, "Well, now you know"

We sit in silence for a few moments, then I break it by muttering, "So you're not getting back with her, then?"

"No..." he frowns, "She's probably seeing someone else already- she's a pretty decent chick. I _liked _Sarah, you know? But I never loved her. Nope. But this other dude, I fucking _loved _him. He made the world seem like a better place, he just... Jesus"

Brendon's clearly drunk, as otherwise he wouldn't be voicing his preferences so loudly. I'd always known Brendon was bisexual, even during the band. It had never really bothered me at all, what with me being quite an open minded guy.

"So you want him back?"

"Back?" Brendon scoffs, then stands up, "Ry, I never _had _him. The fucker's straight... Or so he likes to say"

I stand too, holding my arms out a little, scared he's going to topple over as he sways slightly, leaning against the bar.

"So he's a closet gay?"

"No, not at all... I think he thinks he's straight, right? But then... he used to say these things to me... making out that he... that he liked me... Jesus, I sound like a lovesick teenage girl, huh?" He rolls his eyes, holding himself up with an elbow, precariously, "Fancy taking a walk along the beach?"

I feel as if it's probably a bad idea, what with Brendon being very nearly floored by his extensive alcohol intake, yet I find myself nodding and leading him out of the room.

Once we're on the beach, we discard our shoes by the huge sign that reads "NO SKINNY DIPPING", and head off into the cold sand, feeling it intrude between our toes.

"So who is he?" I ask as we walk along the shoreline together, Brendon finally managing to maintain his balance.

"That, Ryan Ross, would be telling," He stops walking suddenly, lurching out in front of me and grinning drunkenly, "You'll have to figure that one out on your own"

"I don't care" I grumble, although it is bugging me, "Did you know him when I was still... part of the band?"

"FUCK _YES_!" Brendon shouts, grabbing both of my hands and jumping up and down like an excitable puppy.

I find myself staring at him blankly and he looks disappointed.

"I'll tell you tomorrow, Ryan Ross," He looks me straight in the eyes, his drunken stare reaching mine, "I'll tell you as we stand in front of the majestic dolphins, okay?"

"Okay"

* * *

_**A/N: So hello! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Reviews would really be appreciated, because although I have some faves, I'm not too sure if people are actually enjoying this? It's being Beta'd by Nathan Moore, and even though I feel the need to give him a mention, he doesn't want me to, so shh.**_

_**Anyway, I hope you like this. (:**_

_**-Beccy xx**_


	4. Beautiful Majestic Dolphins

"God, I'm so hung over, but I'm so excited... Are you excited? 'Cause I'm fucking _excited!_" Brendon is jumping about in the seat of the taxi, making it jolt around as we speed around Florida on our way to Sea World.

"How hung over?" I challenge.

"Why does it matter, Ryan- WE'RE GOING TO FUCKING _SEA WORLD_!"

I laugh quietly and give him a poke in the ribs. He's ironically put on a t-shirt that reads 'I Heart Ryan Ross', "If I'd have known you were wearing that, I'd have got one"

He laughs, sticking out his chest and showing it off a little, "I found it at the bottom of my shoe cupboard before we flew out here," He explains, "Didn't even know I had the damn thing- must've been given it by a fan or something"

"It's rather tasteful, if I do say so myself," I tease him, "Anyway, you can't remember anything from last night?"

"Sure I can," He says earnestly, nodding, "What do you want me to recall?"

"...Just... something you said... the reason you left Sarah?"

Brendon pales suddenly, "I talked about _that_?"

"Yeah," I say, "You said you'd tell me who it was when we were by the... 'Majestic dolphins'"

"I did?" He looks shocked, and his eyes widen considerably, "But I didn't tell you who it was, right?"

I look at him in a way that says, 'Why the fuck would I ask if I already know'.

"Phew- I- I mean... It was... I was drunk" He ends, lamely, shrugging.

I frown at him, feeling suspicious, "Are you hiding something, Urie?"

"I thought we were on a first name basis, _Ross_"

I growl under my breath, wondering why I'm so bothered by him using my surname to address me. He knows it bothers me, which is why he persists. After being best friends for over four years, you'd have thought that Brendon wouldn't have forgotten about that.

"Ryan?"

I look up to see him watching me. My eyes are unfocused, but my body is turned away from him, facing out of the window, watching the sun gleam off the shiny cars, their paint jobs looking almost trashy to me.

"What?" I turn my body back in Brendon's direction.

"Sorry"

I don't reply right away; I just let the word sit in the air. What Brendon doesn't know, is that he's apologizing for more than just referring to me by my last name. He's apologizing for not stopping me when I walked away, and for ignoring my calls, and for turning me away when I turned up at his door, drunk and afraid...

All of the things that people don't know.

"For everything" Brendon's staring at me now, finishing the sentence that I never thought he'd have the nerve to end.

"I'm sorry, too" My voice is quiet and sounds oddly unlike my own- scratchy, somehow. It's barely audible, but I know he can hear me.

Brendon stretches across the seat between us, and the moment before he wraps his arm around my bony shoulders seems to stretch out infinitely.

And so we sit like that for the rest of the journey, his arm wrapped around me, fingers rolling soothing circles along my shoulder blade, my collar bones, through my tight black t-shirt. The ten minutes that are left of the journey take a life time, giving me a chance to replay everything in my mind, all of the hugs, the hand holding and the jokes, the laughs and the giggles, the drunken nights that we'd never speak of...

Brendon's watching me; I know that. His eyes are scanning me, staring at my every feature. I wonder if he's thinking the same way I am, I wonder if-

"I think I missed you, Ryan"

I look up at him, noticing how his eyes have lost the hard edge that they'd carried before now.

"I think I missed you too"

* * *

"BEAUTIFUL FUCKING MAJESTIC DOLPHINS!" Brendon bounces around as we slip through crowds and surface at the front bar, where the dolphins are, indeed, swimming... majestically.

A woman with a teenage daughter turns around as Brendon screeches, but before she can yell at him for cursing in public, her thirteen year old grasps at her arm and breathes out in short, sharp gasps:

"Mom. Mom. Stop. It's RYAN ROSS AND BRENDON URIE OH MY GOD OH MY GOD YOU ACTUALLY CAME TO SEAWORLD!"

"Jessica, I don't understand" Her mother looks even more confused, taking a firm grip onto her daughter's arm.

"Can I have a photo!? Please say yes, oh my God!"

"Sure"

Brendon grins widely at her as I try and shield myself behind him, hissing into his ear, "You are wearing that shirt"

"And...?" He's now signing her arm with a purple sharpie.

"It says that you love me on that shirt" I say, rather loudly, as the pen is shoved my way.

"So it does..." He grabs me, grabs the fan, and then pulls us all in for a photo just in time for the click and flash of the camera, catching me in one of my most unattractive poses, but thankfully concealing the t-shirt with my positioning.

I sigh as the girl scuttles off with her mom, giggling and waving.

"Jesus" I groan.

"Don't let it ruin the day for you" Brendon urges me forward towards the dolphins, so that we're both leaning against the bar, his body behind mine, as there is no room for us to stand side by side.

"Eh" I mumble, but in truth, I am more than mildly distracted by the fact that his body is pressed against mine, his crotch against my ass with a little more pressure than is necessary. I feel awkward, yet not uncomfortable. I wonder if my accepting nature is due to many years of being on our with Brendon, him playing at the crowds by messing about on stage...

"I love being here," He says it directly into my ear, making me start a little, jerking so that he does the same, "Hey, are you okay? You seem jumpy" He laughs.

"I'm great"

We hang out with the dolphins a while longer, stray over to spend some time with the sharks, take some photos on the camera that I had no intention of using, wander to the whales and then collapse on a bench at quarter to four, the crowds still buzzing around us and my head killing.

"Fancy getting a coffee or something?" Brendon airs the question as he sits beside me. He sees the look I'm giving him and adds, "Somewhere that's not Seaworld?"

"Sure"

We get a cab to a nearby café, nabbing a booth by the window. The blinds are drawn and it's completely dead, the waitress tucked away behind the counter, headphones bouncing in her ears; it's perfect.

"We used to do this a lot" Brendon mutters, almost under his breath. He's watching the table, hands resting on there, fingers entwined.

"Yeah..." I remember, now. After shows, Brendon and I would often sneak off out of the tour van together, down to a nearby café. We'd sit into the early hours of the morning, just talking quietly.

"When did everything get so complicated?" Brendon murmurs after we've ordered to cappuccinos, "I mean... we used to talk endlessly, we could finish each other's sentences... now we just... we're-"

"-Fighting to find things to say?" I offer.

He smiles weakly as the waitress noisily dumps our mugs in front of us, then saunters her way back behind the counter, hips swaying to the music that's pumping into her ears.

"I fucking hate saying this- it makes me seem weak," He pauses and I wait, taking a sip of my coffee, "I really, really missed you"

I don't mean for it to come out the way it does, but my voice spits venom as I say, "So why did you ignore my calls? And why did you turn me away that night I turned up at your house?"

He bites his lip and stares at his hands, which slip beneath the table, "Because..."

"Just tell me" My voice drops as I continue to watch him, mug hovering somewhere between the red plastic table and my lips.

Instead of speaking, he pulls my hand back down to the table, where I place the mug down. Then he takes my fingers, leans forward, and, without taking his eyes off my own, he gently pecks each of my fingers, lips tracing from one to the next, planting soft, wet kisses on each of the long digits. He then uses his lips to caress the top of my hand, before gently flipping it over and proceeding to press his lips into the palm, all the while staring into my eyes.

"I'm so, so sorry, Ry"

I have no idea how to reply, so instead I just entwine our fingers, without breaking eye contact, and for the first time in four years, _I am home_.

* * *

**A/N: I hope everyone enjoys this (: Wanting to let you know that I am back in school now, so if updates are a day late, I apologize.**

**Also, reviews would really make me happy...**

**A lot of people are inboxing me here and on tumblr, but I'd like your review posted here.**

**Thanks, guys,**

**-Beccy xx**


	5. Butterfly Kisses at Dawn

"Hey, sleepy head" Brendon's smiling at me softly as I open my eyes. His hands are in my hair, fingers just absently stroking it.

Everything's sideways and a little blurry, but I soon realize that I'm sat in the café from last night.

"I fell asleep" I state, sitting up and rubbing my eyes as his hands fall back to the table top.

"I know" Brendon laughs quietly, "I managed to keep her happy" He gestures towards the waitress, then at the many, many empty mugs that litter the table before us.

"You're going to be on a caffeine high" I tell him, failing to conceal a grin.

He returns the smile, but his eyes quickly flit back to the table in front of us.

"Why won't you look at me?"

His head snaps up at this, but I can tell that the confusion in his eyes isn't authentic.

"I... you fell asleep, right?"

I nod at him to continue, wondering where the hell he's going with this one.

"And... well the girl behind the counter came over and said what a cute couple we were"

I snort, "Seriously, that's why you won't look at me?"

He gets a little defensive, colour rising in his cheeks, "I... I don't know... Can we talk?" He stands up.

I give him an inquiring look, but follow suit by also getting to my feet.

We leave the small café, Brendon waving friendlily at the woman, who grins, winks, and waves back in a cheery way.

Before I can ironically comment on the fact that he's made friends, he ushers me out of the door, a hand securely fixed at the small of my back, giving me miniscule shoves until I'm out on the street.

Brendon pushes me into a nearby cab, then climbs in himself, leaning forward and muttering into the drivers ear so quietly that I am unable to make out what he's saying.

When the driver pulls up near a surprisingly green, forested area and then speeds off. Brendon begins to forest his way through the trees, not giving me a second glance as I stand at the entrance, feet glued to the ground

He walks back to where I'm standing, then slips his fingers around my wrist, leading me off into the direction in which he'd already been leaning towards. I let him, and he soon drops my wrist. I get an odd sensation, then, as if there's something missing. His fingers were warm, my arm too cool in the sunny location, as if I'm permanently cold.

After a few minutes of walking through tall, heavy-leaved trees, all casting down shadows and making it increasingly cooler, Brendon pushes through some thicker branches and we emerge into a clearing.

There's a running river in the middle, water glistening where the sun has crept between the branches and danced over it, making it somehow glitter. Further on, the water reaches an area where it slips into a pool, which is deeper. Brendon leads us to sit at its' edge, not portraying any emotion on his face.

"How... How did you?-" I stare at him in some kind of awe, unable to understand how he knew his way around Orlando so well.

"I lived here for a few months when I was a kid" He informs me, sliding his body down a nearby tree trunk, fingers knotted behind him, until he's sat on the mossy ground, legs out in front of him.

I sit too, silently, just watching him, and the place in which he's brought me to.

"Have you ever brought Sarah here?" The question has tripped off my tongue before I can stop it, or even comprehend why on earth I'm asking it.

"Is that your first question?" He asks.

"What?"

"I've decided we need to play a game," He muses, "You ask a question, then the other person answers with a question. I saw it on this movie some time. It's a good way to get to know someone"

And those words sting like no others he's ever spoken: _It's a good way to get to know someone._ Because in all reality, it's true. It's true that we no longer know anything about each other. We no longer cling onto each others' words, I no longer show him the lyrics I've written, and he no longer cuts my hair when it grows out of style...

"We don't know each other anymore..." I voice aloud, quietly, "Sure, let's play this fucking game"

"No, I've never brought Sarah here," He replies to my earlier question, "Did you really think that I loved her?"

"I did," I respond, watching him and settling down onto my knees, "What's the name of the man that you are in love with?"

Every ounce of colour drains from Brendon's face, his eyes widening a little, "Have you ever said something totally obscure when you're drunk?"

"Have you ever had a suspicion that you know the person that someone is in love with, simply because they won't tell you that person's name?"

"Have you ever not wanted to fuck things up over the stupidest, most pathetic-"

I cut him off by leaning forward slightly, still on my knees. I'm in a position so that I am between his parted legs, my knees touching his thighs. The bright light is now shining directly into my eyes and temporarily cutting off some of my sight. I press my finger to his lips right before he ends his sentence, holding it there and feeling his hesitant breath against it.

"Have you ever been in love with someone that you're not supposed to be in love with?" I ask him, my voice rising but still less than a whisper, "And no matter how hard you try to block them out, no matter how tightly you shut your eyes, you can't forget them. You think about them _every fucking day_. You think about them as you fuck your partner, and you think about them when you lie in bed, unable to sleep because you have _so many fucking regrets_, because you were the one that walked away from them? Do you know what that feels like?"

He pushes my long finger away from his lips and speaks, eyes watching mine, and voice low, "Have you ever been in love with a man, Ryan Ross?"

I lean closer still, so that our foreheads are nearly touching, then breathe out the words, "Have you ever been in love with me?"

His breath catches as he registers my words, gently licking his top lip then gently biting his lower, "Yes. Is this the end of the game?"

"I think there's one more question, don't you?" I counter, pushing for time a little as a coil of anticipation settles in my stomach.

There are so many he can choose from; they're all bombarding my mind at a hundred miles per hour, crashing off every part of my skull. It's enough to make me dizzy.

"Can I kiss you?"

I lean closer yet, closing my eyes and resting my forehead against his, and feeling his eyelids flutter closed.

I catch my breath then whisper out one more question, feeling obliged to end this, "Do you love me?" I want to hear him say it one more time...

Instead of answering, Brendon leans in and presses his lips to mine, holding them there tightly, our mouths fitting perfectly together, my nose just skimming his as I tilt my head slightly. He doesn't deepen the kiss, and neither do I. We just hold our lips against each others' enjoying the feeling of true contact, feeling as if we once again know each other.

"Is this why you came here?" I ask as we pull apart slightly, foreheads still touching.

He nods, eyes wide and pupils dilated, and his fingers snake to my hips as he pulls me in again, claiming my lips once again.

* * *

**A/N: So this is chapter five :3 I updated a few days early, because it was just sitting there, written, saying "Post me! Post me!" So I did.**

**I hope everyone enjoys this. **

**I again thank you for your reviews, but sadly they are no visible on the site... is any one else having these problems? Perhaps the server's a little faulty?**

**Anyhow, you can also look forward to a small one-shot that will be posted tomorrow night (:**

**This is a bit shorter than usual, but I promise I'll make up for it in the next chapter in which we shall be meeting **SPOILER ALERT** Audrey Kitching, as a kick-ass friend. She'll be a little OOC, but I guess that's the fun of it :P**

**-beccy xx**


	6. Only In Aubergine Dreams

"So what's on the agenda for today?" Brendon literally pounces on me as I step into the lobby, still buttoning up my shirt because we're running late. Okay, I rephrase, _I'm _running late; Brendon's been down here for at least half an hour, chatting with the guy behind the desk, who looks a little flustered and gives me a somewhat irritated glance as I steal Brendon's attention.

"Hey," I rest a hand on his forearm, and he smiles up at me, "Uh... It was going to be a surprise for when we arrived, but... is Disneyland okay?"

"Ryan! You are... you're just so..." He grins widely at me, though I'm still distracted by the clerk, "You're perfect, okay?" He hugs me tight, hands grabbing at my waist.

I roll my eyes, "Stop being so mushy, Bren. Now come on, the cab's waiting for us"

Brendon gives a half-hearted, flirty wave in the direction of the bemused man behind the desk, and then we head out through the revolving doors, him trotting closely behind me.

"Who's the guy?" I ask, attempting to sound indifferent, as we climb into the pale leather seats of the taxi, driver concealed behind a dark film.

"Jealous?" Brendon scoffs, and I sigh, buckling up, "He just started chatting me up," He laughs softly, "His name was Mark and he was quite nice"

"Quite nice..." I echo, not really paying attention.

"Not as nice as my Ryan, though" He smiles, then winks playfully, "Of course"

"Oh, I'm your Ryan now, is it?" I mutter, rolling down the window. I am greeted by a cool but still slightly warm burst of air, which soon settles into a pleasant breeze.

Brendon's silent, then, and as I glance in his direction, he's staring out of the window.

"Hey... Bren?" He looks up at me, "I'm yours, okay?"

He smiles weakly, and mumbles, "I'm yours too, Ry"

* * *

"Brendon Urie, is that you?"

Both Brendon and I both whip around, literally seconds after we'd pushed and shoved our way through security at Disneyland.

She's sauntering towards us, with tight, almost sprayed-on black shorts and a tiny tank top, peach-lilac hair falling in torrents of curls and heavily made eyes set on Brendon.

"Fuck! It _is _you, isn't it? Hello, baby!" Before either of us can react, the woman has her arms around his waist, and voluminous hair buried into the crook of his neck.

I place a hand on her shoulder, in an attempt to calm her from her overwhelming excitement, and she turns and spots me, yet she cannot stop grinning, "And of course, the infamous Ryan Ross"

Both Brendon and I are staring at her. A small girl with dark hair stands less than a foot away from her, looking unsure.

"Audrey" Brendon's voice sounds still in shock, but he's smiling, all the same.

That's when I recognise the woman as none other than Audrey Kitching; scene queen of my youth, and Brendon's ex-girlfriend.

"How are you, baby?!" She exclaims, standing back and giving him the once over, "God, you're all grown up now! And getting married, too, I've heard."

"Actually, we broke up" Brendon's managed to pull himself together a little, now, and is cleaning his glasses in his shirt. When I notice he's just smearing them, I rip them from his hands and furiously work them against my shirt, then hand them back to him.

"Ohhh..." She frowns, then glances at me, then back at Brendon, "Fuck, you move on fast," She raises her eyebrows at me, "And since when did we re-kindle _that _romance?"

Brendon's blushing furiously, but I keep my cool, "What are you implying?"

"You know exactly what I'm implying, Ross," She retorts, placing her manicured nails on a pointy hip, "So when did you two start fucking?"

Brendon splutters a little, but manages to cram some words into order and let her know that we are definitely not sleeping together. At this, she eyes the girl that's with her, as if to add '_yet_' to the end of his sentence.

Audrey manages to drop the conversation and introduces the girl with her as her childhood friend, Emma. She then precedes to hugs me, her bony fingers clutching my ribs, and then the small girl, whom I've never met, is forced to join in with the hugs too, looking awkward and embarrassed.

"So, seeing as we're all here together," Audrey is grinning, "We should totally hang out!"

I can literally_ feel_ Brendon tense besides me as she voices her suggestion, his eyes swivelling towards mine.

So, instead of turning down the offer, I grin, and say, "Sure, it'll be a laugh, eh Bren?"

He's frowning at me, forehead creasing and looking upset at the turn of events, but I take his arm and guide him forward, fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt, as we follow the girls into the park, hot sun beating down on our backs.

"Are you two staying for the fireworks tonight?" Emma asks us, in her quiet but musical voice, as we stand in line, waiting to board the biggest rollercoaster in the park. With Bbrendon eyeing the several loops, I turn to address Emma.

"I... yeah, I think we will, actually"

"That's great" Audrey turns from where she's standing in front, grinning, "Fireworks are... romantic" She winks at me, then raises her perfect eyebrows, smile still lingering at her lips.

Five minutes later, and I'm crammed into a supposed three-seater compartment with four adults. They guy told us that we could all get in there 'because we were skinny'. I'm trying my best to press up against the cold metal of the cart, but my left hip is jarred against Brendon's, my jeans lose around my hips and his visible skin cool against mine, friction increasing.

"You alright, B?" I ask him. He's staring straight ahead; face turning a sickly shade of pale green.

"I think I want to get off," He's not even looking at me as he decides this, biting his lower lip with wide, anxious eyes, "I'm scared I'll be sick."

Audrey and Emma are chatting, now, so there's no chance they can overhear and mock me as I tell him, "I won't let you be sick"

"I think vomiting is an involuntary action, actually, Ryan" He murmurs, still nibbling his lip.

"Don't get off"

"You'll be fine with the girls" He reassures me, fingers closing around the thick bar that's trapping us.

"Please don't get off" I say, quietly, still watching him.

He turns to face me, eyes catching mine for a second, and then he slowly drops the bar and folds his hands into his lap, settling back into his seat, "What if I'm sick?" He asks, gingerly.

"I'll clean it up" I tell him, warily.

He pulls a somewhat doubtful face, but has no time to reconsider, as the ride jerks into life and we're thrown about in a three minute adrenaline rush, which ends with Brendon staggering to a nearby bench and collapsing. I sit beside him, handing him a bottle of mountain dew, and watching thoughtfully as he takes a swig.

"I told you that you wouldn't throw up" I counter, as we watch Audrey take a photo of Mickey mouse with Emma.

"Hmm" He still looks an abnormal shade, so I gently rest my hand on his, running my fingers along the top of his.

He looks slightly alarmed, and I'm not sure whether it's at my rare show of affection in public, or the fact that I'm showing affection at all. Whatever it is, he quickly discards it, and proceeds to ask,

"When we go on the ghost train, can we sit alone?" He asks, and I frown, wondering why he's asked, but then see he's smiling, so I give my consent without enquiry.

Audrey and Emma refuse to get on the ghost train, even though it has no queue. The girls promise to save us a seat at the burger joint next door, and rush off together, talking animatedly.

Brendon and I slip into a booth together, and his fingers find those of my right hand in the darkness, as I wrench down the barrier with my left. There's nobody else on the ride at all, and the woman who checks that we're safely strapped in barely glances in our direction before jerking down the lever and launching the ride into action.

We twirl around the corner and Brendon's fingers tighten around mine, so I glance in his direction, finding his eyes locked with mine. It's as if their glued to me; the beautiful auburn eyes slide along my nose, and drift to my lips, lingering there, and then, as if it's nothing, they flit back to my stare, dancing, almost.

"Brendon..." I'm not certain he can hear my voice at all; what with the pathetic throbbing of the ghostly cackles and the gravelly low pitch of my tone, but his mouth slips into an easy smile, as he pushes his glasses up his nose with his free hand.

He leans in, ever so slightly, and presses his lips to the area just above my upper lip, but just below my nose. He sighs, and I mirror him. We are completely unaware of anything that is going on around us, just concealed in our own little bubble for the few moments that we are completely alone.

I want Brendon to kiss me on the lips. I want to feel his hesitant breath as I did yesterday, I want to taste him on my tongue, but I don't move, and he doesn't either, we just stay like that, his lips on my face, his hand in my hair, my eyes open, until we're jerked apart by the blinding light that tells us that the fun is over.

"I liked that" I surprise myself by saying as Brendon drops my hand and wrenches the bar off us and we clamber out.

"Me too" He smiles shyly.

"Though you could have at least..." I stop talking as step into the sunlight and find our way to the burger joint.

"Hmm?"

"You could've kissed me properly" I finish, looking away.

"I didn't think you wanted me to" He holds the door open for me.

I roll my eyes, "Why would you think that?"

Brendon follows me to Audrey's table before replying as we sit across from them, "Because I'm not the best at it"

I just stare at him, then, realising he's not even kidding, I sigh loudly and pul the menu from Audrey, muttering, "Prove it"

Brendon ignores me, but Audrey gives me an inquisitive look, which I shrug off quickly, by specifying that I refuse to eat another on the menu except fries and milkshake.

"Vanilla" Brendon interjects when the waitress appears and asks what flavour I want. I smile at him, raising my eyebrows.

"I remember when we were in Vegas, staying with your mom," He explains as the girls order, "And you had a fit because she ordered you strawberry"

"Why do you have to remember my most unattractive moments?" I ask, quietly, knotting my fingers together in my lap.

"Nothing about you is unattractive, Ryan"

* * *

The fireworks are dancing across the sky in spirals and twirls of red and pink and white, beautiful and sparkling. Brendon and I have managed to lose Audrey and Emma, on promises that we'll join them at their hotel room tomorrow night.

We've found a quiet, out of the way place in which to view the show, where no one can see us, tucked away behind some trees just behind the entrance of the park. Brendon's fingers are around my waist, and I'm stood in front of him, leaning into his neck, hair brushing his chin and knees slightly bent. I can smell his familiar cologne and feel his stubble against my hair, and it's something I need to get used to again, a feeling and a scent that I never thought I'd witness again, at least in consciousness.

"You smell so good..." His voice is quiet, husky almost, barely audible over the cracks of the fireworks.

I slip out of his grip, only to turn my body and press myself against him, nuzzling my face into his hair, looping my arms around his shoulders and he presses his hips against mine... but not at all seductively, in a perfectly innocent, loving way.

He breathes in my scent deeply, fingers finding the small of my back and lingering there. As the last of the fireworks explode, I know that the taxi will arrive soon, and we'll have to pile into the back. However, this time I know that there won't be a seat between us, as any broken contact would be time wasted.

His fingers are in my hair, and my face is tilted upwards, and just before our lips meet, he gently traces his tongue along my teeth, making me sigh in content. We kiss softly until the cab pulls up, and then he drags me into the back, and like two love-struck teenagers, we cuddle, and he sits with his head in the crook of my neck, for the duration of the ride back.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who is following this!**

**I hope you enjoy (:**


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